Trouble
by NeverNight
Summary: ChouShika. Rated M. Shikamaru has a near-death experience, but Chouji's the one who has more trouble dealing with that. "Just go to sleep, Shikamaru. I'm going to watch you live through the night."
1. Me

Updated 12/06/08

This fic is rated M for a reason, and it's not for violence.

Shikamaru/Chouji. Shikamaru has a near-death experience, but Chouji is the one who has more trouble dealing with that.

* * *

The mission went as planned, but that's only because I planned for every conceivable situation. It did _not _go as well as I'd hoped. The assassination itself was successful, but the escape got complicated. Tenten was nicked by a poisoned needle as she landed the killing blow and Neji made matters worse by rushing out uncharacteristically to help her before I gave the order. I'd be lying if I said that didn't surprise me.

His newfound sense of nobility… It really doesn't suit him. I liked Neji better before Naruto beat the common sense out of him. That kind of rash heroism only works when your hide is as thick as your skull, and though Neji considers himself untouchable, I know he's just as flawed and human as the rest of us. He'll dodge or deflect ten-thousand needles, but a single kunai between his shoulderblades will bring him to his knees. I know he couldn't see it coming, but I don't know how he didn't_ see_ it coming. Two, maybe three enemies hiding in the shadows and in the trees, and he thought he could just grab Tenten and go?

I watched Chouji's teeth clench out of the corner of my eye as the kunai pierced All-Seeing Neji's flesh, burying itself deep in his body. I pressed a finger to my lips and Chouji was silent and still as the Neji's white jacket began to soak through with an angry red color. He fell to the ground where Tenten already lay.

Thankfully, at least Chouji knows better than to go against my plans, and the two of us were able to escape for the time being. It took a hell of a lot of doing after that to extract our two captured ninja from enemy territory, and Tenten was definitely the worse for wear. It made things difficult on the way back, having to evade and attack our pursuers and to defend our injured as well, especially since we, as a team, were somewhat unfamiliar with each other.

By the time we made it back to Konoha there were a great many injuries for the nursing staff to heal. Tenten had begun to hallucinate to the point where she'd become self-destructive and had to be bound and thrown over Chouji's shoulder to keep from cutting herself to ribbons. Neji, though he had recovered nothing more than his will since the initial injury, managed to carry on far better than I would have thought possible. In retrospect, I think that was probably a bad thing. He _insisted_ on fighting alongside Chouji and I (who work better as a two-man group), and the encounters left him battered and bleeding profusely. Only after he'd been beaten unconscious did he stay down. I blame Naruto's influence for the fact that I had to carry Neji back to the village and, subsequently, the injury I took because of it.

One of those bastards following us managed to slit a tendon in my forearm in a surprise attack before I could find a safe place to drop Neji. After we fought off our pursuers I made the decision for us to go on ahead immediately. We didn't have time to deal with injuries as long as there were more of them on our trail, of which I was more than eighty percent certain. Since our only hope was to run, I lashed Neji to my arms. Though it rendered me absolutely useless in battle, it was the only way I could carry him. Of course, I'd never do such a thing for one purpose alone. The added pressure of his body against my arm helped to slow and eventually stop my freely bleeding wound. Unfortunately, there was nothing to stop the infection. The Fifth was not pleased when she looked at the arm, but she had everything under control in no time.

Our mission was labeled a success and we were allowed to go home as soon as we were well. Chouji wanted to stay the night with the rest of the team, but since he'd taken very minimal damage I sent him home for some hard-earned rest. I spent all night at the hospital listening to Neji's quiet breathing and Tenten's constant retching.

If that's success, I'd rather have stayed home. The entire mission was one big pain in my ass, and three out of the four members of my team required hospitalization afterward. The worst part is, this was nothing I didn't foresee. Every time I lead a mission, I do so knowing just how many billions of ways that things can go wrong. I know that the team's chance of survival is greatly increased by my leadership, but even so, I wonder if it's really worth having their lives in my hands. It's enough to make me consider giving up on being a ninja… But then again, I've _considered_ just about everything. Despite it all, the chances of that actually _happening_ are slim to none. I'd be no less responsible for their fates if I gave up my position… And I don't think I'd trust any of these idiots to do a better job.

I glance quickly over at Tenten, who finally looks a bit better, and Neji, who's still resting peacefully, before I climb out of the white hospital bed. "You two get well soon. That's an order," I wave over my shoulder as I sneak out the window. I wish them all the best, but I'd rather not be with them right now. I can't stop trying to second guess my decisions when I'm surrounded by their consequences, and I'm way too tired to deal with this shit anymore.

However, even as I'm practically sleepwalking Konoha's safe streets I can't make my mind shut off. I'm still calculating my percentage of survival if I were to be attacked by a water ninjutsu from behind or an illusory technique or what have you. And of course, there's also the part of my brain that's calculating the actual risk of such a thing happening as well as the part that's begging the two sides to just shut up for half a moment. I just want to lay down in the middle of the street and stare at the stars until they blink out one by one as sleep takes me over.

But… After a mission? There's a higher chance of seeing Sasuke dance through the streets in a pink tutu (not that anyone in their right mind would _want _to) than me resting easy tonight. I know I won't get right again until I'm watching the stars from my own home, shut in by seven or eight tiers of booby traps at every conceivable entrance. I leap to the second-story ledge of my apartment building— the only entrance I left with any possibility of re-entry— and deactivate three different well-concealed traps before slipping the window open and sliding through, feet-first.

Now, I'd just like it to be known that I'm not paranoid. I'm… Neurotic. I know perfectly well that nobody is going to break into my house and, in truth, this isn't even about my house or feeling safe or anything of the sort. It's just that when my brain's on overdrive, it takes something really boring to shut it off. And I mean _seriously _boring. My idea of a good time is doing absolutely nothing or, if I'm feeling adventurous, cloud-watching. So, if I want to numb my overactive senses again, it's back to the elementary-level trap-setting that I mastered over a decade ago. How troublesome.

If I knew any other way to unwind, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately nothing mellows me out quite like spending a few hours setting up exploding kunai, poison bombs, and other whatnots or odds and ends. I've tried smoking. That only takes the edge off, and it makes me even more wired for the next time. I've tried drinking, but then I only wind up being paranoid the whole time about possibly making an ass of myself, and then I'm worse off than when I started. I sure as hell can't drink enough like that to put myself to sleep. I've even tried just taking sleeping pills, but they only make me drowsy. Even if I were to physically and mentally exhaust myself until I'm almost at the breaking point, I can't get out of my own head when there's anything to keep it keyed up.

I sigh as I set my weary self down on the kitchen counter just below the window I climbed through and take a moment to rest. I'm kicking myself now for being too lazy to even untrap my door just because the window was easier. I don't know if rigging up just this one window will be mind-numbing enough to settle me down. Besides that, I realize my friends can't even get in here until I've deactivated the traps since I forgot to let them know what I had set up. Oh well. No use crying over spilled milk; I'm way past the point of being too tired to care.

I hastily and haphazardly go through the motions of booby-trapping the window before slipping off the counter and attempting to pass out on my living room floor. The bed is at least another twelve paces away, and that's just _way _too far. However, almost too weak to stand, I still can't drift off to sleep. Knew it. I sigh as I prop myself up and contemplate taking down all the getup on my front door so I can spend the next hour or so melting my brain with the dull task of setting it all back up again.

Nah.

I decide just to rig some kunai in the living room. Not the brightest idea in case anyone actually does try to get in here tomorrow morning, I know, but I'm lazy. So sue me. I push myself weakly off the floor and grumble to myself the whole time my bleary eyes are trying to focus on making sure I don't cut off a finger or set the whole deathtrap off on accident. I absently wonder if my wound should have stopped reopening by now.

It isn't until mid-morning that my task was finally complete. After setting the last few tools I was finished with away in one of the higher kitchen cabinets that I had to climb up onto the counter to reach, I gave up on even making it back to the living room. I leaned my warm and heavy head against a cool cabinet and felt the uncomfortable tension and energy drain from me as I fell asleep on the kitchen counter.

01001101010001

I wake to the sound of an explosion muffled by the front door. I vaguely wonder where I am when I can't place the warm, sticky surface pressed against my face. I know this isn't where I fell asleep. I stare up and up and up at the clock above my stove and watch minutes tick by, but I can't figure out what time it's supposed to be. I raise a hand to rub my sore and painful eyes, but my fingers are so heavy I wind up pressing too hard and it hurts so much it makes me sick to my stomach. Why can't I feel my legs? Why can't I tell where my fingers are? I wonder if I might not be okay.

I hear another explosion, and for a moment I thought it was in my head, but the birdlike kunai soaring through my living room tell me that someone's trying to get through my traps. Damn it, I need to go let whoever's out there inside before they blow up my whole house. But how on earth can I pick myself up when I can't even keep my heavy eyelids open. God, am I burning?

"Shikamaru!" Chouji's voice pierces my skull like a blade. "Shikamaru, please!" The sound of Ino calling for me joins with Chouji's shouts, muffled slightly by the sound of explosives and projectiles. When the sound of my traps is silenced I can hear a pair of fists banging at my door.

My brain is humming… I feel uncomfortably empty as my sight is rimmed with black. My skin has become molten fire and I can feel my limbs again as they begin to seize up.

A scream caught in my throat as I came to, the sound suffocated, swallowed, and utterly drowned out against my tongue. I don't recall biting it off, but the choking, bleeding, and the burning in my lungs and in my brain will testify that it happened.

"Ino, don't do it! _No! Ino!_"

"Shin-ten-Shin no Jutsu!"

I almost felt her heartbeat as she invaded my every cell, taking over my mind and body. I listened to the sound of her panicked choking half-shrieks as she jolted upright, clutching my throat with my hands. Twice she tried to cough an airway through, and twice she brought us to our hands and knees. I heard her unvoiced swear as she jammed my finger into the back of my throat and we gagged as her finger pressed the tongue down even farther. My back arched and we shuddered violently as my stomach lurched and I retched muscle, blood, and something black and so horrible-tasting I wonder if that's what evil tastes like.

I felt Ino's frantic searching as a pinch below my temple and a tickle behind my eyes as the blood gushing down my jaw continued freely. Had I the use of my limbs I'm not sure if I would have tried to wipe the itch away or let the life pool in my hands, just trying desperately to hold onto it because I know I've already lost too much blood. Nausea overcame me again as I felt Ino's presence leap from my body. I dropped against the floor, spattering my stomach's contents across my face. I couldn't get up or get away.

I slipped down into blackness so quickly I didn't even have the presence of mind to hope for the best.

01001101010001

I blink groggily, brows knitting together against the pressure under my skull. I try to yawn, but my jaw's been wrapped tightly shut, and I think there's something stuffed in my mouth. My pulse spikes freakishly, hammering against my throat as I do my absolute best not to try and move my tongue. I don't want to know.

I really don't.

I try to stretch and a searing pain splits my left arm and I know I fucked up good, because I'm fucked up pretty good. Something went wrong and I don't know what it was. Poison? Infection? Whatever it was, was something beyond the Hokage's medical awareness.

That scares the hell out of me.

I shudder before glancing about. The room is dark except for the flickering light of monitor displays; it must be nighttime. My eyelids feel like sandpaper against my eyes, but I realize that I can't reach up and touch them. I'm bound down to my bed by an absolutely ridiculous amount of leather straps. My skin feels rough and raw as I wriggle testingly beneath them.

As my eyes grow used to the darkness I see a silhouette, and I know it belongs to Asuma. He must have fallen asleep here with me… Strange, I don't think he's ever visited me in the hospital before— not that I'm here all that often. I suppose I could try to wake him and get these stupid straps off me so I can move… But I don't think I really care enough. I think I'd just wind up sleeping some more anyway. I definitely don't feel up to the "Hey everyone, Shikamaru's awake!" ruckus right now anyway. I shut my eyes again as my breath comes slowly, sorely, and evenly through the tubes stuck down my nose. Those are going to be a bitch to get back out later.

"Asuma," I didn't even hear the door creak before Ino's whisper filled the room. I give no indication that I'm partially awake. "Asuma," she repeated.

A quick, wet intake of breath and Asuma regained consciousness. "Oh, sorry Ino. Is my time up already?"

"Can't have him all to yourself you know," the kunoichi teased wearily— quietly.

"Is the line still backed up into the burn ward?" Asuma queried.

Ino huffed, as if insulted. "_Nobody _wants to… To leave without seeing him first. Maybe we ought to ask the Hokage about letting in groups of two," she proposed thoughtfully.

"If Tsunade says one at a time, it's what's best," sensei replied.

I could almost hear Ino's pout. "Really, I don't see why one more person is any different. He's not even…" She sniffled.

A pause, then, "I'll leave him to you." The low scrape of the chair against the floor and the creak of the door told me when Ino and I were alone.

I don't know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn't happening. In fact, nothing happened at all. I simply lay, drifting between sleep and awareness as I felt Ino's presence hovering near me, silent and watchful. The room was permeated with her dread, and underlying the fear was a sick twisting of hope. I had only just built up the nerve to open my eyes when I found that they were too heavy to lift and I fell asleep.

When next I woke it was Chouji's chakra I sensed filling up the sterile room. I could only thank whatever god for the fact that I slid gracefully enough from sleep not to attract his attention. I could feel the misery in the air so thick I thought it might smother me; so heavy I could hardly breathe as it constricted my chest. I feel the room spinning behind my closed eyes and I know whatever unspeakable thing Chouji is going through is too big for me as I am now. I feel too weak to even help myself.

I lay quietly, listening to the sound of his breathing and mine between the occasional beep or blip of machinery. I don't know how long he's been silently sitting here with me. It's a bit strange, I think. Unnatural. There's no sound; not even a motion or movement until a faint whisper, clear and brief reaches my ears.

"_They're taking you off life-support in the morning. You're going to die if you don't hurry and wake up_."

I take a deep breath as his words take me by the throat. I must be in _much_ more serious condition than I thought, first to be on life support, and worse, to be taken back _off_ again. Am I really _dying?_ If I can't let someone know I'm awake, can I even survive when the machines aren't doing my body's work for it? Damn it, I _can't_ die at home with people watching me go. I know what it would do to them.

Not knowing what I might say, I move my lips to speak and panic once again spears me through the head as I realize my mouth cannot serve me. My instincts sent the impulse for my eyes to open and my hands to inspect, but it didn't happen. Nothing but a twitch and a flutter, and with all my strength and will I was only able to painfully awaken every nerve-ending in my left arm and everywhere else from there. I'm worse off than the last time I woke. Funny, how in spite of all that I can't think about anything but the fear in Chouji's voice.

"_Shikamaru_," Chouji hisses somewhere between silent and deafening, and I can feel the anticipation building. "Can… Can you _hear_ me?"

And god help me, I want him to know. I remember what it was like— wondering whether or not Chouji and the rest of my teammates would live after the failed mission to retrieve Sasuke. How it hurt so much I thought I would die of it, and how much I _wanted _to die so I'd never have to hear they were gone. That is something I never wanted for Chouji. Not for any of them. I worked so hard to protect my friends and, here, in the safety of my own village and under the fearful watch of my best friend, I'm bringing this suffering down on him. I don't know how I can show him that everything will be all right, and because of that, I'm not even sure that it _will _be.

Chouji sighs miserably. He doesn't deserve this. I _won't _be the one to do this to him. I take a deep breath. Familiarize myself with my body. Recall the nerves, the tissues, the muscles as they should work. This movement, this completely meaningless motion of comfort came to me as I thought. The straps binding me down were loose enough to allow it— my thumbs touching and the rest of my fingers woven lightly together— it was enough. The effort made my skin burn and my eyes water, but the sight of Chouji, eyes rimmed with red, underlined in black, surprised, and positively ridden with disbelief with the faintest glimmer of hope was worth every bit of effort.

Chouji shot from his seat as realization struck. "Shikamaru! _Shikamaru!_" he called twice. "I've got to get Tsunade!"

My arm shot out easier than before, but, fastened down, I was not bodily able to halt him. The sound— that pathetic moan which was meant to be the word "_No!_" but dissolved into pain between my throat and my teeth were what stopped him in his tracks.

"Shikamaru," Chouji answered quietly, retaking his seat. "You need her here."

I attempt to shake my head, but the leather strap running across my clammy forehead caused me to simply kink my neck at an odd angle. With what limited range of motion I have, I force my hands to speak for me— to tell Chouji I'd rather he stayed. I'm overwhelmed, and I want to know what happened before all hell breaks loose. By the time I'm finished signing my arms almost feel alive again.

"What do you remember?"

The mission. Returning to Konoha. Coming home. Being sick.

"Mmm," Chouji replies. "Poison. It was on all their weapons. It was really slow-acting."

But Tenten became ill within minutes.

"It was a different poison," Chouji nodded. "We didn't realize until the next morning that Tenten was only the first of us to get sick. I developed a really bad fever and headache during the night and went back to the hospital. It wasn't so bad for me since my fight was mostly hand-to-hand combat. When I came back I found out that the nursing staff wasn't able to wake Neji up. When I figured out you snuck out I had the sneaking suspicion that you might be sick too. So I stayed long enough to pop a few painkillers and some fever-reducers before heading to your place. I stopped to get Ino too," Chouji clenched his fists tightly. "I didn't realize how bad it was. I'm sorry Shikamaru," his voice broke, "Those few wasted minutes could have killed you."

I try to shake my head, but I should really stop that; the leather is beginning to chafe. I silently ask about the team. Are they okay?

"They were treated in time. Tenten lost a lot of weight, but she's fine now. Tsunade was even able to heal almost every last scar. Neji… Well, don't laugh, but he's become narcoleptic," Chouji snickered. "He nearly drowned when he passed out in his curry last night, and last week he fell asleep in the middle of a verbal war with Kiba. Tsunade says it's only temporary. He's been falling asleep less and less often… We thought he was well enough to go on a mission last week, but he had another relapse in fire territory and came back worse than the last mission," he told me solemnly. "He's in the next room, and he'll be fine once he stops relapsing."

Are you and Tenten having these relapses?

"Tenten's sickness was awful, but she recovered really quickly and she hasn't had a problem since. I had a migraine for a few days, but it could have been a lot worse. We were all treated very early on and the poisons weren't uncommon. We were able to get antidotes within two hours of showing symptoms." Chouji fiddled with the edge of his shirt worriedly. "Tsunade really thought you were going to die, you know. You kept having seizures and throwing up, and you bit your tongue off— _don't worry_, it's healing, but it's there."

I sigh through my nose, which felt really, really weird with the tubes in. How long was I out?

"The Hokage sent word out to the Sand the day after you were brought in. She couldn't even figure out what poisoned you. Gaara's team was brought in after another day with the antidote and bad news. I don't know the details exactly, but I know they gave you three days to live."

My pulse quickened. Two days for Gaara's team to get here, three more to live? There's no way I could have woken up before day three. I… Only have a day or two left before my life is _over?_

How much longer?

"As it turns out, the poison was a lot more diluted than the Sand thought… It's been three weeks since then. We thought that after you made it past the fifth day you had a chance, but you didn't wake up, and your organs were starting to shut down. You kept having seizures, and they kept getting worse and worse. The last two stopped your heart," Chouji's hands shook as he clenched them tightly against his knees. "Tsunade was afraid that if you kept seizing that you'd go brain-dead, if you weren't already. I was… _We _were so sure that you were going to die. Everyone's been by to say goodbye and everything, and…" the stocky ninja paused nervously. "Shikamaru, there's something you should know."

What? What is it?

"I think we should really get the Hokage in here. You're not out of the woods yet. You've had so many seizures I've lost count. Nobody thought you'd wake up. I'm so glad, but… You might… You've probably been badly brain-damaged," Chouji sniffed, rubbing his eyes. "You might have trouble moving… Talking… Even hearing or understanding… But I swear I'll be here for you. I'll make this all okay."

What… Could I say to that?

"I'll go… Get the Hokage."

My hand reaches out to stop him again, and again it's not the force which stops him, but the force of my will. Chouji takes my outstretched hand and I feel a wet spatter across my skin to accompany his almost inaudible sobbing. I think I would cry too, if I could.

01001101010001

Chouji stayed there with me for a half hour or so while I numbly wondered whether or not I could really be all right again. Then my mother came tiptoeing into the room, quiet as a dormouse until she realized I wasn't asleep. I think someday, if I do die young enough that she's still alive, her shriek could probably raise me from the dead. It certainly brought Tsunade running.

The next few hours were all a blur of nameless nurses and tests and questions (which I couldn't answer by voice) and then some more tests. When they first released the bandages around my jaw and the bit between my teeth and my words came out nearly unintelligible I damn near had a heart attack. I thought for sure that I'd really lost my marbles. Tsunade actually had to explain to me that my tongue wasn't done healing and it was at least three sizes too large and I had at least three times more painkillers numbing my mouth than any average Joe could speak through.

They released me from my leather bindings and within minutes I went from sitting wobbily against the too-thin mattress with crinkly plastic underlining to running circles around the intensive care unit and to kicking Asuma's ass at Go— a frigging _miracle_. Fallen as quickly back out of this misery as I fell in, hopefully. I've never felt so determined in my life; so ready to take on anything and everything. I need to be everything I was before. For my friends, for mom and dad, for the village— for me. I may not be particularly ambitious, but I will _not_ be a failure and I will _not_ be a let-down… I will _not_ hurt them this way.


	2. Us

I wake to the sound of an explosion muffled by the front door. I vaguely wonder where I am before realizing that I'm _home_. I stare groggily at my clock for a few good, long seconds before I figure out I haven't even been home for two hours. I spent the last five weeks in a hospital room (granted, not all of them were _conscious_) and I've only even climbed into my own bed about twenty-five minutes ago.

This had better be important… No, scratch that. This had better _not _be important. I wriggle over to one side of my bed and allow myself to fall out, slipping as I slide through the sheets and nearly crack my head against the nightstand. I lazily right myself, tugging up the slightly too-loose pair of jeans I'd fallen asleep in, and pad across the floor and pull open my front door.

"What's going…" I rub my tender eyes heavily. "Oh, Chouji, what are you _doing_ here so early?" I ask when I realize whose chakra I'm sensing mixed with the smoke released from one of the bomb-traps I set a while back.

"You changed your traps around!" the heavy-set brunette shouted accusingly as he picked himself up off the balcony. "_Again!_"

"Yeah, sorry," I reply, trying my hardest to speak clearly and keep my eyes open. "I set the smoke bombs to go off before the flash ones," I inform him so that next time he can let himself in and leave me to sleep. "Anyway, what's up?" I slur as an uncomfortable shifting in my stomach advises me to sit. "Something on your mind?"

"Well, I heard you went home today and I thought…"

"That I needed a babysitter?" I chuckle. "I'm fine Chouji. Tsunade swears it."

"That's what she said last time," grumbles the heavyset brunette.

I shake my head. "Yeah, well, she didn't say I could _leave_ last time. Besides, this time we have Kankuro's seal of approval as well."

"I'm _still _not convinced," Chouji crosses his arms, and I know I'm losing this battle.

"I'm _fine_, Chouji," declare loudly. "So quit worrying," I soften. "You're gonna go gray before you hit your thirties."

He frowns deeply, grumbling, and I see a sadness in him, buried under the concern and the pride. "I can't just _not_ worry with what happened the last time you came home and nobody was with you. You could have _died _just because you were alone."

"Last time I was irresponsible and left the hospital without Tsunade's say-so. It was my own damn fault, so check the self-imposed guilt-trip at the door," I retort levelly. "You _saved_ my life, Chouji."

"And it's not something I ever want to do again," spoke Chouji. "Not in our own village. There's absolutely no reason for things to get so bad in your own home when there are people to protect you."

"You're not_ responsible_ for me," I insist, sighing. "You don't need to be here."

"But I _want_ to be."

I sigh and shrug, trying to work out the meaning of the look he's giving me— something between concern and grief. "All right, but I don't have a spare bed lying around."

"That's okay," smiles Chouji, "The floor is fine."

With something between a sigh and a scoff I shake my head. "Yeah right, like I'm going to make you sleep on the floor," I roll my eyes as I stalk off into my room and flop down face-first onto my bed. "Just get in here. You can have half the bed if you can defend yourself." I may not be the most energetic person in consciousness, but I've been known to kick now and then while I'm asleep. Chouji probably remembers from that mission a few years back, but it's only fair to remind him.

Chouji raises his eyebrow at me. "The floor might be safer," he replies shiftily as he flops down next to me, "but your bed's probably less uncomfortable."

"It's your life," I mumble into my pillow as Chouji's warm and comforting presence at my side accompanies my drifting consciousness.

I wake a lot during the night. It's nothing new or all too unusual— but when I sleep deeply, I tend to slip more fully into consciousness afterward than most people do. Usually I fall back to sleep within minutes… But opening my eyes to find another pair only inches away, staring straight into mine, well…

"What time is it?" I mumble blearily.

"Around four am," answers Chouji quietly.

"Can't sleep?" I ask, running my eyes.

My best friend shakes his head. "I'm not here to sleep."

"Oh don't start this crap again," I groan. "It's too early. Just sleep, I'm right here."

"It doesn't bother you?" he almost chokes on his own words. "It doesn't scare you? That you could be dead right now?"

"Just go to sleep; I'm _fine_. This isn't about me anymore."

"You're damn right it's not," Chouji snaps, and I quirk my neck so I can see his face a bit more clearly. I frown at the look of near-torment on his face. "_You_ go to sleep, Shikamaru. I'm going to watch you live through the night."

My lips part slightly as my brows knit together. I'm on the edge of verbalizing something, but before I can draw it into the tangible I let it go. I'll give him what he wants.

01001101010001

I wasn't exaggerating when I said I wake a lot during the night. I would probably have fallen back to sleep within minutes if I hadn't noticed his arms entwined in mine, which I might not have done if I didn't wake so completely between dreams. I dreamed comfort and terror. If I didn't know better I might have said it was Chouji's vision rather than mine. Maybe it's the closeness.

I can tell even without opening my eyes that he's awake. The way he breathes, the way his muscles, though relaxed, tense slightly with his thoughts. The way his fingertips press and unclench just so slightly against my arms… I think he's battling between the desire to hold on, to let go, or to wake me. God knows I would have been just that way if they'd allowed me to see him when he was dying.

Of course, I'm _not_ dying and he knows it. Chouji shouldn't be grieving now; he should be _celebrating_. We're ninja. We submit ourselves to a lifestyle surrounded by death at every corner and yet, can still be surprised when it comes. We cannot afford ourselves the luxury of long-suffering heartache. It would destroy us. And I can't stand the thought that one day, when I do die, that Chouji will let that happen to him because of me. Maybe this closeness isn't a good idea.

As carefully as I can, I withdraw myself wearily from Chouji's grasp.

"I know," he replies softly to nothing but my surprise. "I can't help it."

I sigh, rubbing my eyes against the sleep that threatens me again. He knows me too well. "If you get like this every time someone has a near-death experience you're going to have one of your own." I reply, throwing the covers off and padding across the carpeted floor toward the kitchen with Chouji at my heels.

"I won't," Chouji shakes his head.

"The hell you won't," I mutter, running a glass of water for each of us. "What _are_ we, Chouji? Death is written into our _name_."

"No, I mean I won't get like this every time," he insists, taking a tentative sip from the glass I offered him.

"Why?" I ask, frowning. Is it because he was mostly unharmed while his teammates were all in critical condition? That, I would deeply sympathize with. I shake my head as I settle in to the living room, setting myself uncomfortably atop the back of the couch— anything to keep myself awake long enough to placate Chouji so I can sleep well.

Chouji opened and closed his mouth, rethinking and rethinking. "You really have no idea, do you?" he asked in reply as he plopped down next to me, sinking into the overstuffed cushions.

Well, I_ thought_ I did. I yawn, barely conscious. "Not really, no," I answer truthfully. I'm too tired for this guessing game.

Chouji remains silent.

"Don't worry so much what I think," I mutter, smacking him lightly in the head with a slight jerk of the knee. "Just talk when you've got something you need to say. I want to hear about the things that are important to you."

"You."

"Me?" I mime. "…Me what?"

"What's important to me," his hands shake and his heart-rate spikes. "It's you."

"Me, huh?" I say, working that over in my mind until I catch the look in his eye. "Oh. _OH_. Oh…"

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Chouji turns beet red and shifts uncomfortably, causing me to slip a little.

"That's… A little out of left field," I mumble. Now I'll never get to sleep.

"You're not mad at me are you?" he asks softly.

"What? No!" I roll my eyes. I've got no idea what else to _do_. "I'm a little disappointed in your taste, though."

Chouji 's gaze slips to the floor and his shoulders droop sadly. It looks like I shouldn't be joking with him. But… What else is there? He just bared his soul to me and I've got nothing to say about the matter. He's my best friend and I don't want to hurt him, but I don't know how else this could possibly play out.

"You know how I am," I scratch the back of my head. "I'm totally unmotivated, unenergetic, and lethargic. I'd be no good to you," I sigh, leaning my head back against the wall. "Besides, relationships only complicate things." For a second I think maybe my expression might have looked just the same as his.

"You think too poorly of yourself," Chouji sighed, leaning his head against my knee. I shift my weight slightly to accommodate him.

"Oh? I'm not unmotivated, unenergetic, or lethargic?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Well of course you are. You're the laziest guy I've ever met!" Chouji laughs and I roll my eyes. "You're definitely those things, sure, but I'd describe you as thoughtful, kind, and noble before lazy. Even now this is probably the first time you've slept in a whole hellatious week and you're still taking the time to listen and make me feel better. Shikamaru," he breathes gently, "I think whoever you do end up with will be lucky to have you."

"I'm not even that great a _friend_," I mutter. "I mean, I know I'm not bad, but I'm nothing spectacular. I can't see why you'd want anything more to do with me."

"You can do pages worth of physics calculations in your head in less than a second, and you can't even figure yourself out," Chouji shakes his head. "Trust me, you're something spectacular."

I cut off a sigh halfway through and it becomes a halfhearted groan. I can't seem to discourage Chouji, but I can't let this continue. I can't return his feelings because I _don't_ feel the way that he does, but I don't want to hurt him. I can't let this one-sided crush continue on. I've got to find a way to either break or refocus his attention elsewhere without crushing him. I need Chouji to see I'm no good for him. I think what he really wants is someone to make him feel loved, and though I might be his closest friend, I don't think what I have for him is necessarily the kind of love that he needs… And I think he'd realize that if he took the time to look me in the eye and see me for what I am.

"Hey, Chouji," I mutter as I set my glass aside and push myself away from the wall, leaning down until our foreheads are touching. Chouji's eyes open wide in response and slowly, very slowly, without breaking contact, he twists around until our eyes and noses meet. I hold my breath as I wait for the look of sad realization in his features as he breaks away.

But it doesn't come.

Instead, I'm the one with that look plastered across my face as he shifts and his cheek touches mine. It seems like slow motion as his lips pause breathlessly before reaching mine and I swear I can feel them pressing against me anyway. I ache with the tension of that moment, waiting to see what he'll do. When our lips finally met it was so slow and soft that I'd hardly call it a kiss, but I felt it more strongly than I think I've ever felt anything before and I have to remind myself for his sake that I shouldn't put anything more into it than what he's going to take.

My thoughts and nearly every shred of rationality are cut off immediately as he crashes into me, his hands pressing against my sides, his chest against mine, kissing me fiercely like it's the last thing he'll ever do, and I have to force every part of me he's touching not to tremble. As he pushes up against me I feel the wall's coolness against my back. I push what we're doing from my mind and my arms lay lax against my sides. He'll get bored soon enough… His hands glide over my shirt as they slide upward and he's cupping my face and leaving gentle kisses at his fingertips. He'll realize sooner or later that this won't do us any good. I let my jaw remain slack against his hands. I _won't e_ncourage him. He has to know this isn't right for him. Suddenly I feel his tongue pressing against my lips, and before I can even think he's sliding into me and _everything_ is hot and slick sensation.

He's not going to stop. I was really hoping it wouldn't be retrospect and regret that taught this lesson, but I can't do it. I can't just reject him. I can't do that to him. If this is really what it takes to make him understand, I'll do it. I… Just hope I don't wind up lamenting this more than I already am.

I let Chouji do as he likes, and though I'm doing my best to be little more than a bystander to this, I can tell he's also doing his best to get me involved. It's in the little things, like when he suddenly pulls away or when his fingers slip just inside the hems of my clothing or the corners of my mouth. The slightest touches are the ones I feel the most intensely, like this contact is more than skin-deep, setting my soul on fire and bringing me to life.

And I can't do this. I can't say no. I _can't_ say go. I can't keep _doing_ this, and he won't let me.

Suddenly I'm being jerked down off the top of the couch by my clothing and I would probably have fallen flat on my face had my shirt not been yanked off and tangled around my wrists as I went down. With one (either very skillful or very lucky) jerk, Chouji managed to fling me down against the couch cushions, trapping my arms beneath me.

My back arches involuntarily as my body sets into automatic panic to get free. Chouji grins triumphantly and I know I've lost all control of the situation. I grit my teeth as he lowers himself against me, but I can't help writhing beneath him while his calloused fingers are mapping every dip, curve, and contour of mine revealed to him. The cuffs of his sleeves leave trails of ticklish sensation behind the tingling paths his fingers leave with every touch. I swear I can feel every wrinkle and fold in his shirt against my skin, and it's just not _fair_. I'm coming undone. The way he leaves me unwillingly breathless when he pulls away every few moments has me craning after him even though I know we're both waiting for me to say _stop_, to say go, to say something, do something, to let us both know if this is the beginning or the end.

But I won't. It wouldn't matter what I tell Chouji. Both yes and no would be the end of us, one way or another, and I don't want this to be the end of us. I want for us to still be friends tomorrow. But Chouji desperately wants a yes or a no—am I here or am I there— and he's actively trying to find that answer between my ear and collarbone. With his tongue. I hide the hitch in my breath with a skill that actually surprises me. Something between a sigh and a growl plays across the damp skin just below my ear and Chouji swears quietly.

Something— some tension in the air comes to an almost audible crackle and suddenly I'm snapped to hyper-alertness. The sleepless fog in my brain evaporates in a flash and my thoughts are suddenly challenging the speed of light. It feels like every nerve-ending in my body has tripled in sensitivity, and every neuron and synapse and mental process is already busy interpreting the reason _why_ I'm suddenly on edge. _Shit._

In less than a second Chouji climbed off the couch, his feet making a loud, impatient, and annoyed sound against the hardwood floor. His hand darts out toward me and I gasp quickly, eyes set hard against him, momentarily panicking because I know I won't be able to get my arms free before… He merely snakes his fingers around my belt buckle and yanks me roughly to my feet.

I shake my head as the physical terror of having my hands bound subsides into the mental realization that this is _Chouji _I'm dealing with, not some enemy ninja. He's _not_ going to hurt me. I grunt unhappily as Chouji picks me up bodily, but I make it a point not to free my hands, half to keep my participation in this minimal, and half a mental apology for even my momentary, irrational doubt in him. I know it's just my ninja's impulses at work, but I'm ashamed that my most basic instincts don't recognize that absolute fact even though my heart does.

The heat of Chouji's arms against my skin is suddenly replaced with the cool bite of room-temperature air and an infinitesimally small amount of vertigo when he throws me down. I bounce slightly against the springy surface, and I'm greeted by the soft sensation of blankets and… Oh god, he's really going to…

"Shikamaru," Chouji frowns down at me, pressing my shoulders into the mattress. My whole body tenses— feels like a coil ready to snap at any moment. I'm absolutely defenseless, arms trapped and pinned down under his grip. A shiver runs down my spine as my fists and teeth clench and I already know exactly how much force it'll take. "All you have to do is say no," he says in a questioning tone. Pain shoots across my forehead as it collides with his, but it bought me enough time to tear my hands free and slam my elbow against his temple and _oh my god what the _fuck_ did I just do?_

My poorly-healing arm is in screaming agony, and all I can think about are the bruises Chouji is going to have. My eyes are wide as saucers, filled with the look of complete and utter shock upon my best friend's face. Oh god. Oh god.

I dive forward, catching Chouji around the middle. "Shit, I'm sorry Chouji! I really didn't mean it. It's just, my hands were tied and I'm freaking out," I blurt out through my teeth, not even daring to look up at him. He doesn't speak. "I'm sorry, Chouji. I'm so, so sorry. I _really_ didn't mean to," I speak hoarsely. "Please… Chouji, don't… Don't leave." He doesn't answer me. "I'm sorry. I… Don't ever want us to stop being friends. How would I ever get along without you? Who the hell else would put up with me? Would get me? Would want me? Who the hell else would I want that _from?_ Oh _fuck_," I swear wetly as a thousand thoughts are bouncing off my skull, and I don't know which ones will find their way out, but I _know_ this is what Chouji was trying to get from me. "What if you're not happy?" I ask, tightening my grip on him. "Why would you risk a sure thing for the chance at a chance?"

"Because I know you love me," Chouji's voice finally sounded, softly filling the room. "I can't say whether it's comradery, friendship, or maybe something more, but it's enough that I knew nothing would take that away. And, Shikamaru, if you're that good to me as a friend, then what we have is already love. It's already a relationship. Maybe not the kind I see with you, but that's up to you, you know?" he speaks, resting a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay to say no. I'm sorry I'm pushing you. I just… I _don't_ care what you think is the easiest or the best way to handle this. I don't want you to look at this through my eyes or make the decision based on what you think I want. I just… Want to know what you _want_, because that's what I want too."

I don't know what I want. I've never thought about this, and it's too much to take in all at once. I can't know. But… The sick feeling in my stomach when I hit him and the butterflies in my stomach when his words hit me… It can't tell me how things will turn out and it can't tell me what I should do, and it isn't rational and it isn't a thought. It's nothing more than a feeling… But I think… I think that it must be what wanting feels like. Why does it feel so much like terror?

I can feel him waiting for me, and I realize that waiting for _him_ to make the first move isn't going to work. In the end, it's going to be me who tips the scales and changes the equation. If things have to change between us… I have to make this count.

My hands drop from his waist and I catch his eyes in mine. My hands reach for him tentatively, ghosting his face and guiding him toward me with just the slightest touch and I can almost feel his body humming in tune with mine. I kissed him— a simple kiss, but with each lingering second I could feel some unexplored feeling grow, throbbing inside my chest until I couldn't contain it. I stopped— broke away, if only for the sake of being able to return.

This time when Chouji's tongue slipped past my lips I nearly saw stars, senses heightened by my overactive brain. There was no way he didn't notice the quickening of my breath. Within under a minute he's got me panting and sweating so much it almost hurts to see him in that heavy shirt. My hands shake as I tug upward on the garment, willing it off. More than happy to comply, Chouji slips the shirt over his head and leans down against me.

His movement draws a pitiful moan past my lips and we both go icily still. My eyes go saucer-wide as my hands clamp down, vice-like, against my mouth. I cannot _believe_ that sound actually came out of me… How utterly _mortifying_. I flush furiously, and when I can finally make eye-contact, I think Chouji's must be just as wide as mine.

"Holy _shit_, do that _again_," he groans, running his hands along my sweat-slick sides.

I shake my head, hands still in place.

Chouji seems to take that as a dare rather than the resounding "_No_," that it was _meant_ to be. His tongue trails along my neck and up past my jawline. His breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine and I give way to the sensations as my back arches clean up off the bed. Chouji takes the opportunity to grind his hips against mine, and sparks radiate to the tips of my curling toes as I let loose another humiliatingly pathetic whimper. I wrap my legs around his waist as he thrusts against me again, completely awakening the pulsing, snaking lust that makes me want to beg for more, but goddamn it, I _won't_. His fingers and his tongue are setting my body afire— touching, sliding, wanting— and I can't get enough.

As his mouth dips down below my _so _sensitive jawline I moan against his lips in time with another thrust. _That _has to stop. I snake my fingers through his hair and drag him up to my lips, and it's _ridiculous_ how much I want to slip my tongue into him— explore him— but I've only just managed to achieve intelligible speech again after the injury, and I'm pretty sure that wouldn't go well. I part my lips invitingly against his, but I think he's paying too much attention to some other areas of my anatomy, because he doesn't take the hint. Another breathy sound escapes me and I crush my lips harder against his. I can feel his laugh bubbling up.

"Damn it Chouji, come _on_," I pant heavily against him as I resist the detrimental urge to taste his skin.

"Now was that so hard?" he asked deviously. I opened my mouth to retort and he kissed me so deeply that my words were forced right back down as I moaned into his mouth. _Damn_ it, I'll just bet that tasted just as sick-sweet as it sounded. _Fuck_.

Chouji released my lips immediately and slid down the length of my body, his tongue tasting every part of me between my collarbone and "_Oh god,"_ my "_Ah,_" naval.

"You say something?" he grinned against the zipper of my jeans.

"_No_," I groan, grabbing the nearest pillow and pressing it to my face which is burning so hot I'm surprised the pillow didn't immediately catch fire.

"Oh," he gives me an innocent look and props himself up above me on his elbows, his body _achingly_ close, but so far away from me. "Okay," he grins, reaching up to bat my pillow away and ruffle my hair before rolling away and plopping down beside me.

My eye gives a twitch in the millisecond it takes before my every cell is spurred to action. In less than a blink I'm on top of him and it's hips against hips and his body between my thighs and his hands and skin and mouth submitting to my touch and my tempo, but damned if I'm going to let him off the hook that easy. This was _his_ idea. _He_ should be the one doing the work. I take him roughly by the shoulders and sneak my leg suddenly beneath his, using force and momentum to fling him over, reversing our positions. I grin to myself at the look of dazed confusion on Chouji's face.

"I prefer the view from here, thanks," I smirk up at him and I almost laugh as his face turns beet-red.

The grin is instantly wiped off my face as his strong fingers entwine themselves in my belt-loops and yank them down over my hips as he forces his way into my mouth, and now we're _both_ breathless and red-faced. My bare skin, unbearably hard, feels so _amazing_ against the swelling fabric of his pants that I want nothing more than to get them _off_ and press myself against _him_.

My hands trail down his spine as he moves with me and it's all I can do to keep the sensations from pouring nonsense from my mouth. Daring lower, my fingers slip teasingly past the waistline of his last remaining garments, trailing sinfully around his waist until I reach his button and—

"_Ah!_" I moan loudly as he thrusts down against me and I can't make my shaking fingers remember how to work a button. It isn't for another moment that I remember I'm supposed to be embarrassed by the ridiculous sounds I'm making, and in another moment and another thrust I've forgotten it again. "_Chouji!_" I shout, frustrated, as my fingers fumble with his clothing, and I _know _he's doing this on purpose.

Chouji grins against my chest and I can feel the blush burning my ears. He grinds against me again and I see white, feel hot, hear him breathing playful worship into my mouth. He's going to have bruises on his hips from my fingers. If he keeps this up I'll be done before he's even disrobed, and I don't _want_ that. I want him naked, writhing against me, making those dumb sex-noises that sound absolutely stupid coming from me, but which, coming from him, I'm sure would rock me to my core. I want to change the equation and tip the scale with him. I want _this_ to be us.

Our pace slows as my hands run slowly down his arms, fingers parting at his wrists to intertwine with his. "_Chouji_," I whisper with an achingly chaste kiss. "_Please._" He smiles apologetically and his lips gently brush my forehead. I release his hands and mine trail back to his waistband, fumbling sweetly with his clothing, sliding it down, off, and away until there's nothing left but us on this bed.

The first time he grinds against me, flesh on flesh, it's absolutely electric. My eyes roll back as he leaves my legs shaking, my body trembling, and my mind delightfully void of anything but our slick bodies sliding against one another. I let out the longest stream of moans, groans, and whimpers, half of them words and half of them nothing but delicious sound, and _god,_ I want him to make me do it all over again.

Instead, I feel the bite of cool air against my heated body and every part of me that isn't touching him almost _hurts_. I open my eyes questioningly to meet his thoughtful gaze. "What?" I ask. "What are you _waiting_ for?"

"I… Just realized this is really going to hurt if we don't find something to…"

A look of confusion plays momentarily across my face, then, "Oh. _OH. Oh_. Uhm," I scratch my head, cheeks burning as I frown. "Middle drawer, far left," I reply, gesturing toward the nightstand.

A grin quirks the edges of Chouji's lips as he obediently retrieves the baby oil from my sock-drawer.

"Don't even," I mutter.

"I wasn't going to," grins Chouji devilishly.

"Yeah, well—" my words dissolve into a sharp gasp as his oil-slicked fingers trail lightly against my length and I swear I'll feel it until the day I die. "_Chouji!_" I whine as I cling desperately to the sheets.

I repeat his name pleadingly each time he touches me and I never knew how incredible it could be to have someone else's hands on me before I felt them _inside_ me. It's strange and not altogether the best sensation in the world, but the sheer wrongness of it was so astoundingly good that it took all my willpower not to come when his tongue slid hotly along my length as he slipped the third finger inside me.

"_Fuck!_" I moaned, writhing as I attempted to bear with the pleasure. "Chouji, _please_," I beg, hoping that through some miracle I'll last. He slips his fingers from me slowly, and my whole body trembles with anticipation.

He begins to enter me with such care that it hardly even hurts at all, and I can't_ stand_ the slowness of it. I groan noisily as I drag him down into the neediest kiss I think I will ever manage. I buck against him before he even realizes and both our eyes go wide as he fills me so completely that I know I won't ever be the same again. My every muscle strains with the pleasure and the pain of it, and my hands tangle in my own hair as my back arches up off the mattress and my legs wrap tightly around him.

The look on Chouji's face as he grits his teeth, trying to control himself while he pulls back is almost too much. He plunges himself into me again and all the world is white-hot, achingly good want. I whimper shamelessly as he sinks into me again and again, whimpers growing to moans, moans growing to groans, groaning becoming intermittent screams of "_Please,_" "_Harder,_" "_Faster,_" and "_**Chouji!**_"

"_Shikamaru_," he moans into my mouth, and I was right. Rocking against me, it's the sound he makes which turns my world upside down. My head in the crook of his neck, I scream his name at the top of my lungs as the orgasm rips through me with enough force to make my heart skip more than a single beat. The sound of my name humming against my ear as he came was so raw and real, and I kissed him with all the passion of everything we've just done. He withdraws himself from my body and flops down on the mattress, breathing hard and heavy and happy.

It's not even thirty seconds before the embarrassed flush sneaks back into my cheeks and my ears are on fire, realizing how idiotic I must have sounded the whole time. I draw my limbs in toward me, my back to Chouji as the self-consciousness burned a hole in my soul.

His arms snake around my waist and I sigh in rhythm with his breathing. "I _love_ you when you get all hot and bothered," he grins happily. "Music to my ears."

My insides go deliciously warm. I think I might love him too.

* * *

And then they lived happily ever after. Anyway, please review; this is my first (complete) fanfiction.

There might possibly be a sequel in the future so, if you enjoyed this fic, you should add it to your alerts. I'll toss up a chapter here to let watchers know when I've got something new.


	3. Double Trouble Teaser

And here's a teaser for the long (short) awaited sequel:

* * *

"My world has gone to hell in a hand-basket," I comment offhandedly, shaking my head as I lean against her desk.

The mission? Failed. My career? Done-for. Chouji and I? Finished. I think now, for the first time, I'm coming to fully realize how much I've lost. Everything I've ever known and everything I've ever wanted is crumbling all around me. I just want to curl up and cry or lie down and die, but I can't afford that now. I have to make things right even if I know nothing will ever be right again. I won't be made to regret what I've done; until my dying day, I will stand by the choice I made. I can say without a second's hesitation that if I were given the chance to go back— to remake the decision which failed the mission and ended my life as a ninja…

"I stand by my decision."

I didn't know it at the time, but my life was already over anyway.

* * *

It's cool, I swear. Go check it out!


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